


Black and White Passion

by Dreaming_of_Fairys



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sex, Smut, Walking In On Someone, Yaoi, sting x rogue, stingue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_of_Fairys/pseuds/Dreaming_of_Fairys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sting x Rogue smut oneshot collection. I need practice, the Stingue fandom needs more smut, so let's go~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roadside Romance

Sting both loved and hated driving at night.

On the one hand, it was very relaxing and always a beautiful view out the window of stars and city lights. On the other hand, however, he is both sleepy and a bit frustrated with life in general. He and his boyfriend, Rogue Cheney, had been at a dinner for local fashion designers. Sting hadn’t been in the business for very long, but those there who recognized the Eucliffe brand had been very enthusiastic.

It had gone late, and Sting had been hoping that he and Rogue could get back to their apartment for an evening of hanging with their cats, Netflix, cuddling, and sex, but of course, by the time they got home now, it would be midnight, and they both had work the next day, which meant that they needed sleep.

Sting groans from behind the wheel, looking over at Rogue, who seems to be mostly awake, reclining slightly in his seat as he looks out the window at the hills nearby. The clock on the dashboard read 11:15, and they were still about twenty minutes out from home. Even then, they had to stop for gas and then actually get ready for bed.

“Why do these damn events always go until like 10:45?” Sting grumbles. “They said it’d be done around 9 and here we fucking are.”

Rogue sighs, leaning forward to turn down the radio by a small fraction. “I guess designers are very social.” Rogue places his hands behind his head, looking over at Sting as he leans back again. “Trust me, I’m a bit disappointed too.”

“Makes me feel even worse that I dragged you with me,” Sting replies with a deep frown. “I know this stuff doesn't interest you.”

“It’s not that, it's that so many of them are just...very artificial,” Rogue’s gaze flicks towards the window. “These people seem to be in it only for the money and fame...meanwhile you put your heart into it and design for people with low budgets and to make people more confident about themselves. I find that far more fascinating than any $300 purse.”

Sting turns his head, keeping only one eye on the road to look at Rogue. “That was the sweetest fucking thing I’ve heard you say in a while.”

Rogue shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s true. It only makes sense, as I’m more focused about the overall emotions and mental processes of the business than the actual clothing.”

“Don’t try to make your compliment less meaningful by throwing your psychology major on me,” Sting grumbles. “You sound much more romantic when you don’t go off on weird tangents.”

Rogue laughs lightly. “Oh, and I’m supposed to sound romantic?”

Sting groans. “I dunno. I’m tired and pissed off. My mind is all over the place. Makes me wanna just pull the fuck over and not deal with life.”

“Then why don't we?” Rogue asks softly. He watches Sting’s eyes widen in bewilderment and carries on. “Sure, we have work tomorrow, but technically you could come in late and no one would give a shit. I run on no sleep half the time anyways, so that’s not a problem. If you need a chance to clear your head...take it. Crashing the car is not on my agenda this evening, however, originally time with you was.”

“Ughh,” Sting turns the wheel towards the side strip next to the road with slight irritation. “You and your reasoning skills, I swear to god. You could convince me about pretty much anything.”

“That's because you're a high school dropout,” Rogue teases lightheartedly, a smirk shining in his eyes.

“Shut up,” Sting snaps, putting the car into park. “If you took a Chemistry class like mine, you’d be ready to drop too.” He turns the key and shuts off the ignition, then tilts his head to look at Rogue. The psychologist has unbuckled his seatbelt and reclined his chair back more, gazing up at the stars through the windshield.

Sting says nothing, but unclicks his own seatbelt and follows suit. They lie there in silence for quite some time, but Sting wants nothing more than to actually hold Rogue in his arms. The car’s seating arrangements made that impossible to do while still having a view of the starry sky above.

“You wanna move to the backseat?” Sting asks, shifting his sitting position.

Rogue blinks, his head rolling to the left to meet Sting’s gaze. “I suppose. But...won’t the view be blocked?”

“Whatever,” Sting answers bluntly, “I’d rather be with you.”

“So much for romantic,” Rogue smirks as Sting moves to the back. “That has got to be the most rude sounding ‘confession’ I have ever heard in my life, and I once dated someone with literally no brains.”

Sting wrinkles his nose. “To this day I still don’t understand your reasoning.”

Rogue settles down in the seat beside him, cuddling up close. “Neither do I. Glad I dumped him after two weeks…”

“Literally you dated the weirdest fucking people before I finally told you to date someone with actual class.”

“I dated two people, Sting,” Rogue groans. “And Damien wasn’t that bad.”

“I still think he was straight and just too scared to turn you down,” Sting mumbles into Rogue’s hair.

Rogue raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so you're telling me my first kiss was with a straight guy?”

“Wait, hold on, I thought I was your first!”

Rogue laughs. “Nope. First kiss and first makeout were with Damien.”

“Ha, still got to your virginity first,” Sting pokes his tongue out between his teeth in a teasing grin.

Rogue chuckles and nestles closer to Sting. “Mhmm. Still don't regret a second of it.”

A slow smirk suddenly spreads across Sting’s face. “Hey, Rogue.” He pokes Rogue’s cheek, waiting for his boyfriend’s beautifully red eyes to fix upon his face. “Since we’re stopped, I don’t see a reason why we can’t just fuck now.”

“We don't have any lube,” Rogue points out, although his eyes are shining with desire.

“That’s what you think.” Sting grins deviously as he opens the compartment between the two front seats and shows off a small pink bottle.

Rogue rolls his eyes, a fond, knowing smile on his lips. “I should’ve figured.”

Sting is still grinning triumphantly as Rogue captures his lips in a passionate kiss, straddling Rogue’s lap and kissing back with just as much fervor. Rogue moans quietly into Sting’s mouth as the designer pokes his tongue inside, lips moving faster and rougher against Rogue’s.

Sting grinds his hips against Rogue’s, fingers entangling deep in Rogue’s hair as they moan in unison. A blissful sigh escapes Rogue’s lips as Sting’s hands slide underneath Rogue’s shirt, warm against Rogue’s cool skin. It takes only a minute for Sting to pull off the Eucliffe brand shirt from Rogue’s body, then removing his own to leave them both barechested.

Rogue’s hands clench into the skin of Sting’s back, leaving small nail marks as Sting’s teeth graze against Rogue’s neck. Sting licks down the heated skin before digging his teeth in, listening to Rogue gasp in approval. The dark red mark stands out against Rogue’s pale skin, a proud reminder to them both that they belonged to only each other.

“K-Keep going,” Rogue gasps, shoving his hips upwards into Sting’s, shuddering from the feeling of their hard arousals brushing against each other through the fabric. “I can wear a turtleneck...f-fuck…”

“Mm, okay,” Sting hums, wetting his lips before descending on Rogue once more. Every lick eventually is replaced with a bite, leaving a smattering of hickies across Rogue’s throat. Sting’s head swoops down to mark Rogue’s collarbone and chest, feeling the temperature rising in his blood. 

Sting feels like he’s radiating heat as Rogue’s fingers find Sting’s pants, undoing the button there and attempting to slide them off. The close confinements of the automobile made it difficult to move, but after a bit of careful maneuvering, Sting’s boots, socks, and pants were on the car floor. Sting tackles Rogue’s jeans next, pulling the dark green material away from Rogue’s body and tossing it to the seat beside them along with Rogue’s footwear.

“D-Do you care if you top or bottom?” Sting asks through gritted teeth as Rogue bites down on his neck, shuddering with pleasure.

“N-No,” Rogue breathes. “Take whatever you want…” He licks away a few droplets of blood that formed on Sting’s skin before moving his lips down with wet kisses.

Sting ponders the suggestion for a few moments before making his decision, moving off of Rogue to sit beside him. “Switch.” His eyes glint with excitement as Rogue smirks and straddles his lap, obeying without a second thought or slight hesitation.

Sting then realizes that they're in an even worse position to remove their boxers than before, close enough to the window that Sting could potentially hit his elbow against the glass if he moved too quickly. Rogue spots the problem as well, and his brow knits in thought.

“How do people do this their first time?” Sting asks curiously as they reposition themselves. “It’s way harder than it seems.”

“Not everyone is as clumsy and desperate as you, that’s why,” Rogue chuckles with amusement, finger tracing the waistband of Sting’s boxers.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Sting growls, fiercely kissing Rogue to prevent any more attacks at his pride. He nibbles on Rogue’s lip for a moment before concentrating more on the movements he’s making with his tongue.

Rogue’s hand is wandering below the fabric of Sting’s boxers, a single finger tracing down Sting’s v line, stopping right before he’d touch the hardened length below. Sting whines from Rogue’s relentless teasing, deciding to get revenge and copying Rogue’s movements.

Rogue groans in bliss, finally giving in to Sting’s impatience and sliding the pink fabric off of Sting’s legs. Sting sighs in relief now that the restricting tightness of his clothing has been done away with and helps Rogue do the same.

Sting licks his lips, pleased that they were finally both naked and ready. His fingers clumsily fumble through the dim light, grasping the bottle from the leather seat in a shaking hand. He applies a good amount to his fingers before circling Rogue’s entrance, aiming to tease. 

Rogue’s head falls onto Sting’s shoulder, mouth open and panting. Saliva is sliding out of the corner of his mouth as he quietly whines out, “P-Please...hurry up…”

Sting kisses Rogue’s head before replying in a low, seductive purr, “I’ve got it covered, love~”

Sting knew that Rogue wouldn’t need a much preparation after a good three and a half years of sleeping with Sting, but he also knew that deep down, Rogue is nervous even now in the slightest fraction. Sting didn't want to take any chances. Unless Rogue asked him to skip, he didn’t.

Sting slides a single finger inside, listening to the beautiful pleasured sigh that escapes Rogue’s swollen lips. He presses the slick digit a little further inside, curling it slightly to invoke another vocal reaction from Rogue, just twice as loud.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Sting breathes as he inserts a second finger, scissoring inside of Rogue. 

Rogue moans loudly, muffled praise falling from his lips, “Nrrrgh...y-yes…P-Please...give me m-more…aaaah…”

Sting bites down on his own lip, moaning loudly as he drives the third and final finger into Rogue’s loosened entrance. Rogue is shaking like a leaf, in absolute hysterics as he cries out loudly against Sting’s shoulder. “Aaaah~! St-Sting, p-please, y-you don’t need to k-keep doing this-! J-Just fuck me already, p-please~!”

“Shhhh,” Sting soothes Rogue, slowly pulling his fingers out. “Give me just a second.” He reaches for the bottle again, lathering the lubricant over himself before capping the bottle and tossing it to the side. “I’m assuming you’re ready?” Sting aligns himself with Rogue’s entrance, body trembling in anticipation.

“Y-Yes…” Rogue gasps, arms moving to steady himself. “D-Don’t bother going slow… Start out hard and fast...p-please…”

Sting grips Rogue’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, lifting him up just to drive his waiting cock deep inside. They cry out together, bodies reacting heavily to the sensation, jerking against each other's skin. Sting thrusts in as far as he can in one movement, moaning loudly as Rogue’s hips move against him.

Rogue lifts his head from Sting’s shoulder to execute a sloppy kiss, mouths falling away from each other from panting, then clumsily reconnecting again. The windows around them start to fog up as Sting picks up the pace, Rogue practically screaming into Sting’s mouth. Rogue thrusts his hips down, riding Sting as the blond’s movements become more and more desperate.

“F-Fuck...so...good...haaah...R-Rogue…” Sting is unable to produce anything more coherent, his own thrusts syncing up with Rogue’s. Heat curls in his stomach as he angles his cock slightly different than before to reach his partner's prostate.

“AAAAH~!” Rogue screams in ecstasy as Sting abuses his sweet spot at last, tears of pleasure sliding down his cheeks. His entire body jerks down against Sting, gasping as Sting’s skilled hands find Rogue’s cock and slowly begins stroking. Rogue slams down as hard as he can, watching Sting’s face writhe from the euphoric sensation. His hand matches time with his thrusting, building up fire in Rogue’s stomach. 

The windows are bright white, the sweat sliding down their bodies working up a lot of moisture in the air. The car rocks slightly as their lovemaking builds up to the climax.

“Nrrrgh~ Aaah...haaa~ St-Sting...c-close-!” Rogue breathes loudly against Sting’s lips, mere moments away from finishing. Sting is right behind him, catching up after only a minute of slamming deep into Rogue.

“Sh-Shit...c-cumming~!” Sting whines. They cling to each other as tightly as they can, putting their everything into one final thrust.

Rogue is robbed of his voice as his orgasm washes over him, shooting hot into Sting’s hand. Sting releases at exactly the same time, painting Rogue’s insides with white as he shudders with ecstasy. Their eyes are closed as Rogue practically falls on top of Sting, grabbing onto the leather seats for support. Panting, slowly their lashes flutter as they look into each other’s tearful eyes with pure love and adoration.

“F-Fuck...you’re...amazing...as always…” Sting gasps out, sticky fingers brushing against Rogue’s thigh. He waits for enough strength to return to him before lazily pulling out, then waits for Rogue to catch his breath and answer.

“Mmmm...so are you…” Rogue replies sleepily, giving Sting a gentle kiss.

Sting sighs, looking at their messy surroundings. Clothes were strewn everywhere, lube and cum has splattered across the leather, and the windows were nearly dripping. “Well, shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Rogue asks with concern, eyebrows knitting together.

“We still have to clean up, drive another twenty minutes, get gas, then go home...and I’m in an after sex sleepy daze and it's almost midnight.”

Rogue blinks, letting the information sink in. He then bursts into rambunctious laughter, collapsing onto Sting and wheezing into his chest, “Oh, we’re so screwed.”

“So much for work,” Sting says, sounding not that disappointed. “Guess we’re taking the day off.” He pauses, remembering a similar situation happening two times before. “Again.”

“Let’s blame the fancy food.”

Sting laughs along with his boyfriend, kissing his forehead. “Good plan.”

Needless to say, Rogue’s boss was not happy. Somehow, she always seemed to know when “sick day” meant “sex day”. Oh well. At least he still had the job. In the end, that was all that really mattered.


	2. Stress Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, quick update. I've had this one written for a few days now and just never posted it *cough I forgot cough* So here you go~!

Rogue knew something was wrong the second Sting started repeatedly banging his head against his desk.

"Sting, stop stop!" Rogue cries, rushing across the office to grab the back of Sting's vest and pull his head up from hitting the wooden surface again. He tilts the Guild Master's head so he's facing him, looking deep into his boyfriend's eyes. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Trying to calm myself down," Sting replies hurriedly. "Rogue, I'm so fucking stressed! This pile of paperwork is all due in two days, we're still behind on our rent, I have an apology letter to write, and the leak in the girl's bathroom has only gotten worse!"

Rogue sighs, letting go of Sting's light blue vest and gently running his fingers through Sting's spiky hair. "Love, all hitting your head is going to do is give you a headache." He kisses Sting's now red forehead tenderly.

Sting lets out a breath, eyes downcast. "I know... I kinda just snapped..."

"Do you want some hot tea?" Rogue moves his hands down to Sting's shoulders, giving him a gentle massage. "Or maybe you want to go home and take a bath and finish the rest of this at home?"

Sting sighs in relief as the tension in his shoulders slowly slips away. He leans back, stretching his arms upwards, causing Rogue to step back. "Thanks. That felt good." His face falls again as he continues. "But I've tried tea already and I really don't have time for a bath..."

"Well, do you have any better ideas?" Rogue snaps a little too harshly. He doesn't apologize, looking Sting dead in the eyes.

Sting could tell that while Rogue was concerned, he was also getting fed up with the fact that Sting heavily overworked himself and didn't listen when Rogue made a simple request of him.

A devious smile crosses Sting's lips. "Oho~ I do actually have an idea, but I'm not sure if you're going to like it." Rogue raises a questioning eyebrow, waiting for Sting to continue. Sting's eyes glint mischievously, "You could always give me a blowjob, eh? That tends to help."

Rogue's cheeks are instantly dusted with pink. "Haha. Very funny." He sighs, seeing the smirk on Sting's face. "Yes, I know. You're deadly serious." He pretends to ponder Sting's request for a moment, even though he'd already made up his mind that he'd do pretty much anything to calm Sting down at this point. He lets out a reluctant sound of giving up before saying huffily, "Alright, fine!"

"Good~" Sting smirks. He wiggles a suggestive eyebrow at Rogue. "Get under the desk."

"Excuse me?!" Rogue splutters. "I never said I would-"

"Master's orders," Sting laughs.

"Stop it," Rogue hisses as he hesitantly obeys Sting's command. "You make everything sound five times more sexual than it needs to be." Deciding to get payback, he looks up at Sting with a smug smile on his face. "Besides, if we're talking dominance, I believe I've got the upper hand here."

"Oh, shut the fuck up and suck me off," Sting snaps, face bright red. He dips his quill into the inkwell, listening as the feather clinks against the glass.

Rogue overhears that telltale sound as he starts unzipping Sting's pants, frowning deeply. "Are you actually going to try to WORK while I blow you?"

"I told you, I can't take a break," Sting replies, starting to fill out another piece of paperwork.

Rogue sighs, fully unzipping Sting's pants and sliding them partway down his hips. He places a finger beneath the waistband of Sting's boxers before pulling them down to reveal his partner's sizable cock. Rogue begins by touching him with a single finger, running it down the warm skin to try to help Sting work up a hard on.

Sting gasps, then bites down on his lip. He had to focus. He fills out the next few blanks, then bubbles in a few things. His hands are unsteady as Rogue cups his half-hardened length in his hand, stroking it slowly and gently, just enough to send all of the blood in Sting's head to between his legs.

Rogue licks his lips as Sting hardens in his grip, pleased with his quick work. He leans down, hand still holding Sting's throbbing arousal, touching his tongue to the tip. Sting groans and fills in another bubble. Rogue swirls his tongue around the head, drawing a bit of precum, which his hot, wet tongue easily licks away. Sting makes a strangled sound, his hand gripping his quill tighter.

Rogue takes his as his cue to continue. His flexible muscle leaves saliva all down Sting's shaft, licking from base to tip. Rogue takes a good inch of Sting's long cock between his lips, aiming to tease. Sting moans, eyelids fluttering in pleasure.

Just as Rogue is about to move another inch, the door to Sting's office opens. Rogue is about to panic when he remembers that he's hidden beneath the desk, and unless Sting fucks up, their dirty little secret is safe.

"H-Hi, Minerva." Sting greets her as best as he can, breath hitched in his throat, struggling to stabilize his quavering voice.

Rogue is conflicted between carrying on or just sitting there with Sting's arousal in his mouth. He isn't going to completely stop and pull away now, because that would DEFINITELY alight a not-so-pleasant reaction from Sting. After a moment of mental war, Rogue takes in the next inch.

Sting's hips buck forward against Rogue's mouth, and the Shadow Dragon holds back a cough, sucking in another inch. His hand, which is still grasping the base of Sting's erect cock, slowly begins to pump as he continues his ministrations with his mouth.

"The plumbers called," Minerva says, sitting down in the chair in front of Sting's desk, lazily crossing her legs. She doesn't appear to notice the sweat on Sting's brow and the small whine that escapes his lips as Rogue's hand moves faster.

"Haa...r-really now?" Sting stammers out. He tries to dip the quill back in the inkwell, but misses the mouth of the bottle, dripping ink onto the desk. His unsteady hands are starting to cause problems, so he slowly sets the quill onto the desk.

Minerva raises an eyebrow. "Yes, they told you they'd get back to you today, remember?"

Rogue sucks down as much of Sting's cock as he can in one movement, hand dropping away. Sting's body jerks, the chair making a slight creaking sound. Sting tries to cover it up with stretching his shaky arms upward and arching his back, hoping to convince Minerva that was where the sound came from. "A-Ah yes, th-they did..." He lowers his arms, his left hand fisting Rogue's hair while he sets his right on his right thigh, trying to fake relaxing.

"Are you not curious to what they said?" Minerva asks flatly.

Rogue deepthroats Sting's length at last, feeling the tip hit the back of his throat. It takes all he has within him to not moan, because he loved every second of this, the feeling of Sting's length hitting his throat, almost as if he was going to choke on it.

Sting's nails dig into Rogue's scalp, trying to direct his reactions to there so he could hide the rest of his impulses . "N-No, p-please tell me," he gasps out. "Nrgh...sorry...I'm a bit...t-tired and...haa...I think I might be...g-getting sick..."

Minerva's eyes twinkle with amusement. "I can tell...poor you." The amount of sarcasm in her voice sets off an internal alarm inside of Rogue, but he doesn't stop, simply slowing the pace of his lips in the hopes to delay Sting's release for when Minerva leaves. But the Lady Tiger kept talking. "They said they can come in tomorrow evening to fix it, but it's going to cost you a good 350,000 jewel."

Sting groans both in pleasure and disbelief as heat builds in his stomach. He mentally swears: it wouldn't be good to hit his climax NOW, not with Minerva in the room. "Annnrrrghhh...b-but I...f-fuck...don't have that m-money right n-now..."

Minerva has a small smile on her lips. She turns around, saying over her shoulder as she moves to the file cabinet, "Let me find the guild budget from last month."

Sting grips Rogue's hair tightly, a silent signal to just go. Rogue's nails dig deeper into into Sting's thighs as he bobs his head, taking Sting's entire cock deep into his mouth, then pulling it nearly all the way out. His movements are so heated, fluid, and quick that Sting feels ready to finish any second now.

Unable to stop a small groan escaping his lips, Sting glances a wary eye at Minerva, who is saying nonchalantly, "Your organization skills are so terrible I don't know how you find anything."

Minerva keeps talking, but Sting tunes her out as Rogue takes him to the finish, something curling hot in his stomach.

Sting's eyes roll into the back of his head as his mouth falls open in a silent gasp, entire body flooding with heat like fire. He shoots over Rogue's tongue, and Rogue easily swallows down all of the thick, hot liquid. Rogue has no trouble sucking down all of the bittersweet fluids, holding back a moan of his own.

He pulls back, licking pearls of leftover cum from his chapped lips. Sting is shuddering as Minerva moves back towards Sting's desk, slapping paperwork down on the surface. "Here it is."

Sting has been rendered speechless from his intense orgasm, not able to answer Minerva as Rogue licks over his spent, slick cock, cleaning his skin.

Minerva sighs. "Well, just figure it out, then." She turns to go, stopping only in the doorway to add, "Bye, Sting, Rogue."

From underneath the desk Rogue chokes audibly, hands falling away from pulling Sting's boxers back up his hips. Minerva cackles, throwing her head back as she closes the office door behind her.

Rogue finishes dressing Sting then emerges from between Sting's legs, eyes narrowed and lips curled in a slight snarl. He doesn't have to say anything, but honestly, neither does Sting.

The young Guild Master simply smirks and raises a suggestive eyebrow. Rogue sighs and gives in, rising to occupy Sting's seat as the other settles on the floor.

After all, Sting needed thank Rogue somehow.


End file.
